The Old Place
by mrkwatny
Summary: "Do not gloat when your enemy falls; when they stumble, do not let your heart rejoice" Proverbs 24:17 Death is an interesting thing. You cannot control it, no matter how hard you try. It will never cooperate. {Eventual Mattie/LaBoeuf ;; Doctor Parmalee/OC ;; Rooster/A Bottle of Whiskey Part 1/? in a series}


**Thank you for reading! More coming soon! I am looking for a beta, so if you are interested, feel free to contact me!**

 **. . .**

"That is silly, it is my store. Not his."

LaBoeuf eyed me, if only for a moment before he turned to glare at Rooster. The fat, old Marshall dropped some kindling into the fire. His good eye studied the ranger and me, mouth slightly open as if ready to comment on how I was prepared to feed him like a baby. He remained quiet, and for that I was thankful.

"Eat, Mr. LaBoeuf." I persisted once more, moving the spoon closer to his tightly closed lips. A moment of hesitation occurred before he moved to take the gooey corn dodger for consumption. I watched him, how he was careful to chew. This made me wonder if his tongue still hurt him any. If it did, he was wary not to show it. You could see easily that he was run down, the bags under his eyes were astounding. It reminded me of the large weekend bags my Aunt Petunia carried with her when she visited us from Georgia, stock full of handmade petticoats, pearl powder, and peppermints. I was tempted to ask if LaBoeuf had any of these things stored in his eye sockets, but it was a foolish question that would only aggravate him even more. Before I could prepare another mouthful for Mr. LaBoeuf, a gruff and slurred voice made an objection.

"Stop doin' that." It was the Marshall, who had finally decided to say something about the feeding. A tinge of embarrassment fell upon me, but I did not cease. This caused an awkward silence that fell over our camp, and only the rain in the trees and the crackling fire could be heard.

"Why are you being so foolish?" I asked, not wanting an answer, but just wanting to end the dreaded silence. Mr. Cogburn's foolery did not make me angry, but it made my cheeks redden when I realized there wasn't a reason I was feeding him. I felt sorry.

"He's a grown man, he can feed himself."

I felt Mr. LaBoeuf push away from me as if to separate the awkwardness between us. "I second that, though I appreciate the help, do not get me wrong by that, Mattie."

I nodded, pleased that he had relieved me of that duty. It was my own initiative but Marshall Cogburn made a fool of us. I moved back to my own pack, leaving the cup and dodgers near him. I felt small, a feeling I often possessed on this trip. I was fourteen of age, Rooster must have been in his fifties, maybe seventies. Mr. LaBoeuf's age was something of a mystery to me. His features suggested he could have been in his mid thirties, but his way of speaking of himself suggested younger. The two older men, especially Reuben J. Cogburn looked upon me, not as a trail partner, but as a baby they were protecting. There were times when mid conversation, one man would say to the other, "Mattie's virgin ears would not tolerate this kind of speech." And it would be left at that. Never would I care, I was too busy thinking about my justice than worry over petty conversations the two had. I would have liked to think my 'virgin ears' could take quite a bit. Papa has had farmhands with tongues sharper than knives and the pride to match. Their tongues were as slippery as oil and Papa would have them back on the job hunt by supper if they said rude words around the children. I had learn quite a few profanities in my childhood, though I am not eager to share them.

"Get some sleep, Mattie." Mr. Cogburn said, laying himself on the cold ground that had only been covered by his wool blanket. It was not long after that before you could hear his whistling snores emitting into the cold winter's night. It was always troubling to get to sleep. Rooster always made such a racket. His snoring was like a storm that shook the earth beneath me. After a while, it would fade away. I'd listen to the frogs and the crickets and Mr LaBoeuf's mumbling. It was comforting. I put my head on my saddle, and listened until I drifted off into a rough slumber.

When I woke up, Rooster was still sleeping, unlike the Texas Ranger, who was drinking from his canteen. My head was still fuzzy from sleep, so I did not bother to wish him good morning. He nodded his head towards me, as if he did not wish to say it either. But, we both meant it. We sat in silence for a long time. I felt foolish, the embarrassment had affected me too much. It was time for me to move on from it.  
"I have a feeling today we will meet our object." I said, letting my pride show in my voice. We were so close. Cogburn was sure they were camping just on the other side of the creek.  
"Don't get your hopes up, Mattie," LaBoeuf said, keeping his voice low. "Sometimes things fall apart. We don't know what is going to happen."

I was disappointed by his honesty. It had always been a thought in my mind that we would not succeed, but I was successful of keeping that thought in the back of it.

"It sounds to me you are not confident in our pursuit." I said, wiping an apple clean with my sleeve.

"If you have been in this field for as long as I have, you would understand not everything pans out the way it ought to be."

I suppose he was right, but his negativity was not doing us any favors. It was around eight in the morning, when LaBoeuf finally shook Rooster awake. He arose without verbal protest. Something told me, he objected his rising. For his good eye shot both the texas ranger and I healthy and cold glares.  
"Never mind that," LaBoeuf said to the matter, "Time's a' wastin'."  
We abandoned our camp and traveled across the stream. The air was particularly nippy that day, I remember. I wrapped Papa's jacket tightly around me and took the belt in a notch.

There was a steep hill that we stopped in front of, and Cogburn suggested the Lucky Ned Pepper Gang were camping right up there. I noticed I was wearing a stupid grin. Tom Chaney, here I come, I thought wickedly.

It was a wonder beyond me how Rooster was able to climb that hill with such determining vigor. He was drunk beyond belief. I questioned if he was as sure as he seemed. Judgement can easily be misplaced with the influence of alcohol.

The ground was covered in wet, soft leaves, long dead since the Autumn. This made the quiet trek seemingly impossible. There would be no element of surprise that day. The hill began to even out quickly, as the trees became sparse. We paused a moment. There was no noise, except our heavy breathing, and a bird of prey near by. I felt my heart fall. Has this been a waste of time?

"Shit." I heard Rooster grumble, followed by a similar cuss from LaBoeuf.  
I have never seen the old Marshall move so fast. Ahead of us, there was a clearly and Rooster marched right for it. That was where he was expecting to catch the Lucky Ned Pepper Gang, but to no avail.

"They left last night it seems." Rooster said. "Probably heard Mr. LaBoeuf's gibbering. That damn Texan can't keep his mouth shut. This is the second time he interfered with a good plan of mine."

"Yes," spat the Texan. "Blame me."

"They could probably smell your sheep shit from all the way up here. That gives them every reason to run, I suppose." Rooster let out a cackle, but neither LaBoeuf nor I shared in his amusement.

"Ever since I joined this manhunt, all I have been hearing against my name is slander." said LaBoeuf. "I think it is time for me to make my own time elsewhere."

"Was that not our original agreement?" Rooster pulled out a cigarette.

"I believe it was, and I am prepared to honor it."

"Fine then, the gang is gone anyhow. No sense in pursuing further."

This was not the first time we had nearly fell apart. A few days earlier, LaBoeuf had taken offense to something Cogburn said and left us to ourselves. We came upon him at the Original Greaser Bob's cabin. That is where he was shot and nearly took his tongue in half. In a panic, I said, "Gentleman, please. We are so close to our goal, witch Chaney nearly in hand. The Lucky Ned Pepper Gang is only a night's ride away."

"Mattie…" Laboeuf looked down, and I could tell then it might have been my 'childish tendencies' to urge further. "It is just not possible no more."

"Mr. LaBoeuf, there is a reward waiting back in Texas for you if you catch Chaney. How can you give up now after so many months work?"

"Well, sometimes things are not meant to be. Some men are just easier than others." To that Cogburn gave a hum in agreement. I was not nor am I now a lawman, but I could not let either man just brush away this mission like it was of no importance. Tom Chaney killed my father, and I was not about to let either man get away with giving up.

"You are not leaving."

A beat occurred before LaBoeuf continued. "I've made my decis-"

"No. Tom Chaney killed my father, and I will see him punished for what he did to my family." This statement made LaBoeuf give a small shrug, an easily recognizable expression of guilt written on his face. I felt more frustrated than upset. How men are so easy to give up, perhaps law should be a woman's job. Things would certainly get done quicker that way, without the trifling quarrels.

"I'm sorry, Mattie."

"If neither of you will escort me, I will find them myself. I have a revolver and enough provisions to last me until then."  
This grabbed their concern, certainly. Cogburn protested. "You couldn't last two days without us."  
"Even I could hardly last against the gang, you saw for yourself, how could you?" LaBoeuf asked.  
"That gives you all the more reason to stay," I insisted. "Please, Mr. LaBoeuf. I need you to stay with me. Just like you said to me when we first met."  
Now, I have said things that I have regretted many times, and in the moment, I felt the tinge of regret. I felt my cheeks redden slightly when I noticed Rooster giving us a baffled expression, but my head remained high. It felt silly to feel as embarrassed as I did.

"We don't even know where they would go next." LaBoeuf looked at Rooster. "You know this gang better than I do, Cogburn. Where do you think they would have gone other than straight off the map?"  
"I suppose they went to the Old Place then." I turned. Rooster pointed northeast. "His sister's place, up that ways."  
"His sister's?" inquired the Texas Ranger.

"Johanna Pepper, her name is. She runs the coop. Pretty girl, don't go bitin' LaBoeuf. She has her eye on one of the Parmalee brothers. The doctor, I think."  
LaBoeuf stayed quiet, swinging his rifle over his shoulder. "To the Old Place then?"  
"To the Old Place."


End file.
